Mage Quest - Wizard of Yurt 3 (11 page)

Toward the end of our third day of riding east, we saw an enormous castle rising before us at the very base of the mountains. Dozens of towers and turrets rose above high wals that encircled not just the castle itself but al the hiltops around it. Those wals, pierced with arrowslits and guarded by towers at every corner, must have been at least a mile long. I had once assumed the royal castle of Yurt was a good example of an impregnable castle built for war, but this journey was showing me I was mistaken.

We zigzagged up a steep approach beneath those wals, but the gates before us stood wide and welcoming. Tel your king that King Haimeric of Yurt is here to visit him,” the king told the armed guardsman who met us. Although a second guardsman immediately stepped up to take his place as the first went off with the message, he showed no sign of attacking us and instead gave us an interested look.

King Warm, word came back almost immediately, would be happy to receive us. We passed through the wal, up another zigzag stretch so steep we had to lead the horses, then across a bridge over a deep and narrow ditch and through another set of gates into the castle itself. We were then led through the courtyard, where servants took the horses, and into the great hal.

The hal was about the same size as the great hal in Yurt, but there the comparison stopped. The outer castle wals may have been dark granite, but the interior wals of this room were green marble, set with semi-precious stones that flashed in the light of the magic lamps. Even the flooring was marble. It seemed very cold, I told myself in loyalty to Yurt.

King Warin was seated on his throne on the far side, surrounded by liveried attendants. They backed away, bowing, as we approached, but six liveried knights remained close to the throne. Talking to the king was a man dressed in black and silver whom I took to be the Royal Chancelor. The king lifted his grizzled head as we came up. He had an enormous ring on his forefinger, and the cloak thrown across his shoulder was made of wolfskin.

I expected him to frown at us in august majesty, but instead he rose to meet us with a smile. The knights stepped forward with him. “Haimeric! It’s been years. I should have known the rumors about a blue rose would bring you out of that little kingdom of yours. And you,” with a pleased look at Ascelin, “I know as wel. You helped me when those undead creatures invaded my kingdom many years ago. Prince Ascelin, that’s it.”

I glanced around surreptitiously as we were introduced, wondering where his wizard might be. But when I asked, King Warin told me what I should have expected. “We don’t have a wizard right now, I’m afraid.”

“What happened to Elerius?”

“He left nearly a year ago,” King Warin said regretfuly. “Another kingdom closer to the City needed a new Royal Wizard, and the teachers of your school recommended him. We were terribly sorry to lose him, but I don’t think my kingdom held many chalenges for him any more. You knew him, I gather?”

“I knew him when we were in school together,” I said, thinking that Yurt stil seemed to have plenty of chalenges for me.

“He realy was extremely good,” Warin continued reminiscently. “I think that’s why we haven’t been satisfied with any of the other young wizards the school has tried sending out. Did you know, Haimeric, he instaled our telephone system within three days of taking up his post? And then,” with a laugh, “he apologized for taking so long, saying that if he had taken more courses in the technical division it would have taken only two!”

It had taken me six months, not three days, to get the telephone system working in Yurt and then we had ended up with telephones unlike anyone else’s. Fortunately, King Haimeric did not mention this.

“Maybe you can help us, Wizard,” added Warin thoughtfuly.

For a second I felt again the cold majesty I thought I had sensed when we first came in, but which his friendly manner had belied. As a wizard, I was highly sensitive to mood and partialy concealed thoughts, but I was also highly sensitive to my own imagination.

“Just after Elerius left, a group of pilgrims stopped here. They had a wizard with them. He left something he said was a special message for another wizard. So far, none of the new wizards whom the school has tried sending us has been able to read it—part of the reason we decided not to keep any of them. Maybe you can; I’m sure Haimeric wouldn’t keep an incompetent wizard!” This was clearly meant to be a joke, but I took it seriously. “I’l have a look,” I said as casualy as I could.

King Warin kfted one hand in a lazy gesture and his dour chancelor, who had been hovering just at the edge of our circle, hurried away. I was immediately convinced that the group of pilgrims had been Sir Hugo’s party and that the wizard who had left the magic message was Evrard.

II

The chancelor returned with a box so black it seemed to absorb the light from the magic lamps. “I’l need a little privacy for my spels,” I said with what I hoped was calm dignity. If it actualy was a message from Evrard, I wanted to read it before anyone else. And if it took a while to figure out the spels, no matter what wizard had left it, I didn’t want an attentive audience.

The chancelor led me to a smal parlor opening off the great hal. I probed carefuly, trying to find what kind of spel permeated this box. No way to open it, not even a seam, was visible.

I had over the years grown to distrust my sudden convictions, which tended to be wrong most of the time. Evrard, I told myself, stil wasn’t a good enough wizard to have created a message that several highly qualified graduates from the school couldn’t read. Of course, the alternative was that some truly incompetent wizard had tried to leave a message and had only made something unreadable.

Abruptly, I caught a glimpse of a spel I understood. It was a very simple spel, so simple, in fact, that I had almost overlooked it while probing for something more complicated. I said a handful of words in the Hidden Language and a seam suddenly appeared al around the box. The lid slowly opened. Inside was a parchment scrol, written on both sides in incomprehensible symbols and combinations of letters. But when I said a few more words, they scurried across the page and shaped themselves into a clear message.

It was from Evrard after al.

“Beware, any wizard who reads this,” it began. “You are in danger of your life.” Could this be one of Evrard’s jokes? “King Warm, I think, is a sorcerer. Last night I saw unmistakeable evidence that he is dabbling in the black arts.”

toward the great hall. Our party i, talking to King Warm and his

I

was still stand chancellor.

I looked toward the hal again and met King Warin’s eyes across a space of twenty yards. They were almost unbearably cold and seemed to bore straight through to my bones.

I tore my eyes back to the message. “We have also just heard some very strange rumors coming out of the East. King Warm, I think, knows more about them than he wishes to say. This is not a good place for a young wizard.”

That was it except for Evrard’s signature. I said a few quick words in the Hidden Language, the letters of the message rescrambled themselves, the lid of the box slammed shut, and even the seam that marked the opening disappeared.

I took two deep breaths and squared my shoulders, then walked back into the great hal.

“I’m afraid it realy is an unreadable message,” I said, handing the box to the chancelor. “No wonder none of the young wizards from the school had any luck with it The wizard who created it seems to have gotten his spels wrong. The one thing I could determine from it, sire,” turning to King Haimeric, “was it was left here by Sir Hugo’s wizard.” That’s right,” he said in high good humor. “We were just hearing how his parry had stopped here.”

“You al remember Evrard,” I said, “from when he served as ducal wizard of Yurt that one summer. I think he’s developed into a fairly good wizard, but he always used to like improvising new spels and not al of them worked.” I apologized silently to Evrard for impugning his abilities. He would understand.

Ascelin, who had spent our whole visit to Arnulf deeply suspicious, now laughed reminiscendy. In this castle he appeared to find noding to fear. “Wel, his rather unorthodox magic gave me the excuse I needed to woo my lady the duchess,” he said.

I looked at King Warin from the corner of my eye. Could he realy be a sorcerer? He was certainly no wizard and, as far as I could tel from a few delicate spels that I hoped he wouldn’t notice, he didn’t even have as much magical training as most carnival magicians. But diere was someding about him, a latent power, a suggestion that he might be appreciably older than his grizzled hair would indicate, that could mean that here was someone who knew just enough of the Hidden Language to take himself and those around him into deadly danger.

Although he was talking animatedly with Hugo about his fadier’s visit, he seemed to feel my eyes on him for he turned his head just enough to meet my glance. His smile reached nowhere near his eyes.

His chancelor slipped away to arrange accommodations for us. A whole maze of chambers, passages and stairs led off the great hal. This castle, I drought, had been built and added to for centuries. We ended up in a large chamber with more than a dozen beds intended, I expected, to put up the knights of a visiting dignitary.

I was relieved to see that our saddlebags had already been brought into the room and that the corner of Claudia’s foil-wrapped present was just visible under the flap of Joachim’s bag. At this point, whatever it contained, I did not want to lose it.

In spite of the marble floor and the heavy, silk-worked tapestries on the wals, the wide room felt grim. The fire burning at one side seemed to cast no heat. King Warin was wealdier dian Joachim’s family could ever imagine being, but there was noding here of the sybaritic feel of the Lady Claudia’s guest chambers.

“I think Warm’s as old as I am,” said the king, “but he looks at least twenty years younger. The air must be healdiy this close to the mountains!” I had anodier explanation, but I didn’t want to voice it here. And if King Warin was a sorcerer who dabbled in black magic, what did that say about the man who had been his Royal Wizard for twelve years?

We were served dinner in the middle of the great hal, with no odier members of Warm’s court mere except his ever-present chancelor and the stony-faced knights ranged behind the king. The platters and even the bowls by our places for bits of rind and bone were made of heavily worked silver. Not only did Warin not have a Royal Wizard, he didn’t seem to have a Royal Chaplain, either. King Haimeric talked as we ate about the blue rose, which I had been surprised to hear Warin knew about, as noding about this casde suggested a rose fancier. Then the king moved on to the topic of the Black Pearl.

“King Solomon’s Pearl?” said Warin, with that same good humor and openness floating on top of a bitter cold which only I seemed to feel. “I certainly haven’t heard anyding about it, aldiough since the main trade routes al run west of here, rumors from the East wouldn’t reach me quickly. After al, the mountains are ful of bandits so the luxury caravans stay wel clear if tiey can.” Evrard, I diought, had heard here “very strange” rumors coming out of the East.

“In feet, I’m not sure I ever knew anyding about the Pearl, beyond that old legend that the caliph had had it hidden in the sea, what wouldit be, a good milennium ago.”

“Wel, we’ve heard enough stories that it’s been found again,” I put in, “that I’d like to cal the wizards’ school to see if they have any more accurate information. Would it be possible, sir, to use your telephone this evening?”

“Of course, of course,” said Warin, the perfect host. “Ask them, too, when that new wizard they promised me is likely to arrive!” Several young wizards sent back as unsuitable—especialy since one or al of them would have told the school about Evrard’s message—would be good enough reason for the Master of the school not to send Warin any more. That is, I thought, unless Elerius had told them the king was not a sorcerer, just someone with very high standards for his employees.

I would very much have liked to ask the school about Elerius, but when the dour chancelor led me to the telephone room, he showed no sign of leaving. He leaned against the wal, his arms folded and his eyes on me, as I waited for someone to answer. I could see the telephone in the wizards’ school, a tiny image in the view screen. Elerius might have instaled the phone here in three days, I reminded myself, but I had been the first wizard to invent a far-seeing attachment for telephones.

A young wizard answered, and in a few more minutes I was talking to the school’s librarian. “I need al the information you have about King Solomon s Pearl,” I told him. “How soon do you think I could get it?”

He seemed surprised. “Is that the Pearl that was hidden in the sea al those centuries ago? I’m not sure we have very much on it.”

“I need whatever you have, especialy information about its powers and attributes.”

I had hoped the librarian could give me the information immediately, or at least by tomorrow morning, and my heart sank when he said he hoped to have something for me within twenty-four hours. “Oh, yes, that wil be fine,” I said as unconcernedly as I could. I should have realized that it would take a while to find references to an old story that had come to an end a thousand years ago. I didn’t like spending another day in this castle, but once we crossed the mountains into the eastern kingdoms we might not have access to any more telephones at al. “Let me talk to Zahlfast.”

“So you’re in Elerius’s former kingdom?” my old teacher asked me a minute later. “Evrard and his party got there, too, we hear.”

“That’s right,” I said, glancing at the chancelor. I hoped Zahlfast could see him in his own view screen. “He even tried to leave some sort of magical message here, but it’s al garbled.” Zahlfast opened his mouth and closed it again. “I gather the king there has been spoiled by Elerius for any other young wizard,” he said after a very short pause. “He stil wants a Royal Wizard, so we’l have to see if there’s an experienced wizard somewhere who’d jump at the chance of serving in such a wealthy kingdom, even if it is somewhat isolated.” There was no way to speak directly, mind to mind, over the telephone. I tried to read in Zahlfast’s face whether he thought the king here might realy be a sorcerer or if it was al Evrard’s imagination, but such information was too complicated to be conveyed by facial expressions.